Never Too Late
by kendra151
Summary: Sometimes good things happen to those who are forced to wait. ONE SHOT
1. Chapter 1

******Toll Road reminds me of an old teddy bear, tough and worn on the outside, but soft and warm and wonderful to cuddle when you need a little comforting. And I don't think he gets nearly the amount of attention he deserves. Hopefully, this will do him a little bit of justice. **

******This is nothing but a shameless attempt at a little smut. This is your only warning, so if you're not into this type of thing then you should probably turn back now. Because in the words of the infamous Hale Caesar to Gunnar and Toll Road - "Even you two rejects could get lucky around here!"**

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Discouraged, frustrated and alone, Toll Road stepped inside his modest room, his small slice of the generous industrial loft located over his comrade's garage. It wasn't much. The space was compact enough that the solitary lamp on the table beside the bed illuminated all but the deepest corners of the room. But it was all he really needed. It was home.

Although it was familiar, there were times, like now, when the meager space felt heavy and oppressive, and he found himself wondering what it would be like if he were to relocate to a more desirable spot somewhere further outside the city. But he knew the feeling would pass, as it always did, his curiosity overruled by common sense and financial responsibility. Even though he could afford better, for the price he paid, it was ridiculous to complain about the ambiance. Especially considering he was absent, more often that not, due to the nature of his employment.

At the mention of work, his thoughts drifted momentarily to his teammates, with whom he'd spent most of the evening, and he wondered how it was that he found himself on the receiving end of their ridicule yet again. Even though they were his friends and he knew there was no real malice intended in their jokes and taunts, it didn't make hearing them any easier. Self consciously, he ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, his fingers probing the malformed appendage on the side of his head. Although he had always considered the abnormality to be a symbol of bravado, a testament to his strength and fortitude, he'd quickly found that others did not see the deformity in the same light. For as long as he could remember, he'd been the butt of numerous jokes, from both friends and strangers alike, and more than once, he'd been required to put some wayward prankster back in line with a few well-placed punches, the list including an ex-boss, an annoying neighbor and a former college roommate.

He recalled the numerous barbs that had been traded more recently with his friend, Hale Caesar, over the malformation, wondering if perhaps there had been some semblance of truth in the big man's observations. Maybe his ear was the source of his misfortune, emitting some kind of displaced bad karma mojo that thwarted him at every turn. After all, for a prized trophy, it sure as hell hadn't brought him a whole lot of good luck. As a harsh reminder, his thoughts automatically shifted to the events from that evening, and he felt his muscles clench with anger as he relived the painful shame of humiliation. But, there was no one to blame but himself. He should have known better than to even attempt something so foolish.

Muttering under his breath at his own stupidity, he sifted through the sheets on the bed, searching for the book he knew he'd left there before he'd gone to sleep the night before. Finding only a worn t-shirt instead, he snatched it up and twisted it in a ball, hurling it into the far corner of the room with as much force as he could muster.

The soft click of the door closing behind him was nearly inaudible, but his well-trained ears easily picked up the sound (both of them, despite what his teammates thought), and that, coupled with a finely tuned sense of intuition, alerted him to the fact he was no longer alone in the room. He glanced casually over his shoulder, expecting to see one of his friends standing there, no doubt hell bent on dishing out a little more torment while they had the chance. Instead, his eyes locked fiercely on the new arrival, his grip growing painfully tight on the book he'd finally found buried at the foot of the bed.

The source of his sudden interest stood pressed against the door frame, returning his gaze with an obvious sense of unease, one hand still positioned on the doorknob behind her, in the event she needed to make a quick getaway. She was trembling, the minute vibrations coursing through every weakened limb, only to converge into a swirling mass in the churning pit of her stomach, and she wondered if he could see it from where he stood, if he could see how it had taken every ounce of her resolve to stand before him and face him now.

She stared back at the man, who was still silently brooding at her and she wondered if her presence would be embraced, or if her arrival would be construed as a threat to his surely bruised ego. ___What a silly thought_, she surmised, recalling what had happened. How could she be stupid enough to even think she might be welcome here after what she had done?

She waited for him to speak, longed for the right words to come to her, struggled to find something to say to this man. The same man that only hours earlier she had inadvertently humiliated. And in front of his friends at that.

She cringed again, as she recalled the incident, the ache of embarrassment painfully fresh. She'd seen this man before. Him and the others. They were regulars at the bar where she waitressed. She was familiar with all of their faces, although she did not know their names. As a general rule, the group usually kept to themselves while they were there. Unlike so many of the other patrons, these men were different. She'd known enough to recognize that the first time she'd ever laid eyes on them. They weren't trouble makers or brawlers, they weren't loud or boastful, and they weren't prone to drinking themselves into oblivion, although on a couple of occasions she had seen them carting off the biggest man in their group, a tall blonde who had apparently indulged himself just a little too much. She'd waited on them many times herself, and they were always decent tippers, never difficult to please. She recalled hearing bits and pieces of some of their conversations, and sensed they seemed to enjoy a good nature banter with each other, but nothing specific or particularly interesting stood out from anything she'd overheard.

She'd discovered right away that some members of the group were more vocal than others, and she knew from experience that the one she faced now was one of the quiet ones. She had surmised from her own short and infrequent conversations with him that he was an intelligent man. Soft spoken. Amiable. But physically, he had intimidated her, his expression so serious and formidable, his crooked nose and damaged ear giving him a tough, rugged edge. But that had all changed the first time he'd smiled at her. By chance, she'd seen him finish off the bottle of beer he'd been drinking and she'd quickly brought him a replacement, before he'd even had a chance to request it. She'd placed the full bottle on the table in front of him, and he'd looked up in surprise and smiled at her, and from that moment, she'd been hopelessly lost. She found herself returning the gesture. Not just that night, but all the times after, the grin appearing magically on her face every time she saw him stroll through the door.

But despite all that, he was still a mystery to her. What few actual conversations they'd had, had been kept to pure pleasantries, restricted mainly to mundane topics such as bar clientele and the weather. She'd taken his platonic dialogue as a sign of his disinterest, not that she was really surprised. Surely, a man as handsome as he, was already taken. And by some stunning beauty, no less, who's charms she would never come close to possessing.

That was why, when he'd approached her earlier that evening, alone and uncertain, and invited her to dinner, she'd done nothing short of make a complete fool of herself. She'd floundered, certainly, her mouth gaping like a fish that suddenly found itself without water, her face undoubtedly the brightest shade of red a human being could possibly display. She couldn't find her voice. Couldn't breath. Could not even command her head to offer even the slightest tilt of a nod in acceptance. She could only stand and stare at him, dumbstruck, until her boss snapped at her from across the room, "Nicole, back to work!". She'd scampered off to the kitchen, without even giving the man the courtesy of a reply, and she'd heard the sound of subsequent laughter from the direction of his table as he returned to his friends, obviously rejected, the sound weighing on her heavily as the door swung shut behind her. By the time she'd composed herself enough to be able to return to the front of the bar, the entire group of men had been gone.

She'd gone back to her work, and did her best to forget the whole incident, but her conscience would not let her put the echo of that humiliating laughter to rest. And once she'd settled on a course of action, it had taken surprisingly few inquiries of the remaining patrons to discover where the men might possibly be found. So she'd convinced a co-worker to cover the remainder of her shift and she'd gone in search of ___Tool's, _in hopes of redeeming herself.

She'd found the place without much trouble, although it had taken her quite a bit longer to work up the nerve to finally wander inside. Thankfully, the place had been empty – she didn't think she had the courage to face the entire group at once - and the older man she'd spoken with, the infamous Tool himself, had politely pointed her in the right direction. A little too hopefully, she might add, as though he anticipated pointing her in the direction of his own room, if her original meeting did not go as planned.

And now, here she was, courage failing, humiliation returning and she realized she hadn't given a thought to what would happen beyond this point, had no idea what she was supposed to say or do. Worse yet, she did not know what to expect from the man standing across the room from her.

Seconds ticked by, or it could have been minutes, maybe even hours. She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, and when her eyes fluttered open, he was still there, closer now, the same intimidating look upon his face.

___This was a mistake! You should just leave! Do it now!_

Her mind screamed the warnings and her grip tightened painfully on the doorknob behind her, but she found herself unable to move, as though she were held in place by some invisible force. She blinked, clearing her head, and he was even closer now, and she knew with a sinking heart that her opportunity to flee had already come and gone. He stopped in front of her, his face a mask of confusion, much like her own had been only a few hours before.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to see you again anytime soon." His tone was guarded, but his eyes had taken on a softer edge as he spoke to her. She'd seen that look plenty times before, always when he smiled.

Although he was familiar, standing face to face with him now, in such close proximity, made her feel weak. She focused her eyes at his throat, unable to look him directly in the eye, unwilling to let her gaze drift any lower. He was one of the smaller men of his group, not that it made much difference now, as he stood next to her. He was still several inches taller than she was, and he was obviously in great shape, she surmised, as she granted herself a quick appreciation of his chest. She'd noticed during his several visits to the bar, that he had a penchant for multicolored shirts with unusual patterns, worn over a plain cotton t-shirt and usually complemented with a pair of cargo pants. And he was dressed similarly now, the outer shirt stretching agreeably over his broad shoulders, the shirt underneath pulled taunt over his stomach, at which, she was currently trying hard not stare.

___Don't stand here like an idiot. Say something!_ She opened her mouth, tried to find her voice, but the only sound she was able to mutter was a breathless "Yes."

He tilted his head, confused, uncertain she'd actually spoken at all.

"I'm sorry...I don't..." he paused, flustered. "What?"

She closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself. She hadn't bothered to come this far just to make a fool of herself again.

"Yes." she repeated, only slightly louder than before, the heat of embarrassment spreading across her face. "I'll go to dinner with you."

He hesitated for a moment, until the shock began wear off, his mouth tilting into a lopsided grin. It wasn't the full on smile that she knew, but it made her stomach flutter just the same. "You came all the way here, just to tell me that?"

She nodded silently.

"You know, it would've been a lot easier on both of us if you'd just given me an answer when I asked."

His voice had taken on a teasing tone and her shoulders sagged with relief at his obvious good nature over the incident.

"I know." she replied with a sigh. "I'm...so sorry about that. You just caught me off guard and I didn't know what to say."

He watched, slightly amused as she blushed harder. "It's not really an unusual concept, you know. I'm sure you must get asked out all the time."

"No, you're right. But most of them don't really mean it. They're either drunk or stupid or both. But you're..." she sighed again, hugging herself. "The fact that you would want to go out with me...it just surprised me, that's all."

___I'd be a fool not to want to ask you out. You really have no idea how long I've been watching you, do you?, _he thought, keeping the comments to himself.

"Well, that makes two of us who've been surprised tonight, then. Just the fact that you'd bother coming all this way..." He chuckled softly, letting his voice trail off. "You know, I was afraid I might have developed somewhat of a reputation. That maybe that was what had scared you off."

"A reputation?" she questioned, surprised. "What kind of reputation?"

Regretting his words, his stare hardened and she watched the amusement flicker out of his eyes, as his shoulders sagged.

"Let's just say I've done a lot of things in my life I'm not necessarily proud of."

"So have most people." she argued. "I'd say that makes you human."

"I'd like to think that." He shook his head. "But there's more to it than that. The truth is, I'm not the person you might think I am."

___And someone like you shouldn't be mixed up with someone like me_, he added, mentally, as she contemplated his words.

"I can't say I know much about you, but I know you're not a bad person," she argued. "I've seen my share of bad people. I know what they're like, how they act. And you're not one of them. I don't believe that for a second."

"Don't be so sure about that." he murmured, although he found her willingness to support him to be charming. Or naïve. He wasn't sure which.

___How differently you might think if you knew I was a killer_, he thought to himself again, that common feeling of hopelessness returning.

She raised her hand, shifted toward him, then stopped, unsure of what to say. He shook his head, his fingers fondling a wayward strand of hair lying on her shoulder, before tucking it behind her ear.

"No, don't. Look, I'm sorry. For all of the confusion." he finally continued, even though it pained him to do so. "On second thought, this really wasn't a very good idea. You shouldn't be here. And I think it would be best if you go."

___I don't want to go_, she thought. ___Not now_.

Without thinking, she stepped forward, her hands resting on his face, her thumbs sliding over the rough texture of his cheeks, before she raised up on her toes and kissed him. Not hard. Just enough to taste him, to see what it was like to touch him. Then she felt a hand on the back of her head, fingers slipping through her dark tresses, felt the unyielding hardness of the door at her back, as her body was pressed against it. She heard herself moan softly, her lips parting beneath his, her hands slipping from his face to rest against his chest. The sound seemed to pull him from the trance and he broke the kiss, and she felt the roughness of his beard tickle her skin, as his cheek brushed against her own.

He shifted, moving closer, bracing his hands on the door on either side of her head. Her hands still rested on his chest, fingers curled into the material of his shirt, although she made no attempt to try to push him away. He kissed her again, a series of soft, lingering kisses, that ended with a gentle nip of her bottom lip between his teeth. Eyes closed, she sighed, enjoying the affection, and at the sound, he felt that sharp pain in his gut, twisting and churning, reminding him that happiness, no matter how great, would always be fleeting.

He would fall for her. In many ways, he already had. But even if she were to stay, what kind of life could he truly offer her? How many times would he have to leave her side, leave her alone and scared, and uncertain if she would ever see him again? How unfair would it be to expect her to carry the heavy burden of knowing what exactly it was that he did for a living? And to know that what they might possibly have together could be eradicated in an instant, her entire life shattered, his living, breathing form replaced by a heart wrenching farewell note and a shoebox full of money.

He ran a thumb lightly along her jawline, trailing soft kisses along the same path on the opposite side, reluctant to let her go. She leaned into his touch, fingers still gripping his shirt tightly, as though her desperate grasp might possibly be strong enough to hold his larger frame to her. He felt her against him, the feel of soft skin and delicate bones under his fingertips and against his better judgment, he let his thoughts wander, wondering how it might feel to finally have someone to come home to after all those long extended absences. What a change it would be to not return to an empty shell of a home. To know that there was someone here, eagerly waiting for his return, grateful to see that he was still alive.

But at what cost? Was he willing to destroy her innocence merely to build up his own broken psyche?

He pulled back and stared down at her, the visible desire in her eyes matching his own, threatening to undo him.

"You have no idea what you're walking into." he murmured, unable to bring himself to pull away, even though he knew that he should.

"I'll take my chances." she replied with a smile, tugging on his shirt, urging him closer.

Smiling himself, he took her face in his hands, gently tilting her head, and kissed her again, excited to feel her respond accordingly, her own hands sliding upward around his neck. They parted, breathless, his lips brushing softly against her forehead, as an arm slipped lower, encircling her waist. He lead her to the bed and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, pulling her down beside him. They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment, before she blushed and shifted her gaze to the floor.

"What is it?" he asked, giving her a gentle nudge. "You know its ok if you change your mind. I can't blame you for not wanting to be here."

She shook her head "No, it's not that."

He stared, waiting for her to continue.

She flashed him a bashful look. "It's just that...after all the times I've seen you at the bar, I'm ashamed to say that I don't even know your name."

He considered her confession for a moment, then grinned. "Well, I'm Toll Road." With a hint of amusement, he offered her a hand to shake.

"Wait. Toll Road?" she questioned, skeptically. "That's your real name?"

He contemplated her question, his mind racing. He was heading down a path, from which, he knew, there would be no return.

"It is now." he replied, gauging her reaction. "It will make sense soon enough, if you decide to stick around."

She could see the doubt clouding his face, and she found herself wondering just what kind of secrets that a man like him might possibly possess.

"Well, Toll Road. I'm Nicole." she took his still outstretched hand and gave it a shake. "And I'm glad I finally got the chance to meet you."

He chuckled, keeping his hand on hers as she placed it in her lap. "Well, Nicole, I already knew that. You wear a name tag, remember?"

She laughed with him, surprised to find how at ease she felt with him after only a few short minutes. "Hey, not funny! You had an unfair advantage!"

He gazed at her, plucking at the same wayward strand of hair and once again pinning it behind her ear. "No, darlin', you had the unfair advantage. From the very first time I saw you."

She felt his arm tighten around her waist, watched his face go dark as he continued to stare at her. She could sense him hesitate, could almost hear the words on the end of his tongue that he wanted to say, but couldn't. His hand still in her lap, her thumb traced lazily over the outline of his knuckles.

"Do you intend to hurt me?" she asked suddenly, startling him. His eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"No. Of course not." he stated, sharply.

She turned in to him, making sure she had his full attention.

"Then I don't care. Whatever doubts you have, whatever you're holding back, it doesn't matter. I'll deal with it. Whatever it is."

"You don't know what you're asking." he replied, after some thought. She was serious. Dead serious. And he could sense a strength and determination in her that was perhaps even stronger than his own.

"I'm a big girl. I can deal with the consequences, whatever they are." She rested her head on his shoulder, her hand slipping from his grasp to slide across his stomach, gripping his side in a partial hug.

Despite their earlier kiss, the intimate contact surprised him, and he tightened his own arm around her waist protectively, a tremor of anticipation coursing through him when she nuzzled into his neck and gave a contented sigh. In spite of his doubts, he decided this was something he could easily get used to.

He gazed down at her, his fingers traveling up her spine to brush away the hair from her face. Her eyes flicked up, locked with his, and before she even knew she was doing it, she was touching his cheek, urging him toward her in another kiss. She felt his hand, resting again on her back, wind its way through her hair, in the same manner he had before, a shiver of pleasure coursing through her as he brushed the skin along the base of her neck. The kiss intensified, passion rising, hearts pounding and when they finally parted, she found herself straddling his lap, fingers locked tight against the muscles of his shoulders, his own hands planted firmly on her back, crushing her to him.

Mimicking her earlier actions, he nuzzled her throat, lavishing the delicate skin with soft kisses and gentle bites. She whimpered as he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and he groaned as she squirmed against him, tormenting his already hardened flesh. His lips returned to hers, his hands gripping her hips in a desperate attempt to still her movements, his control slipping when he didn't succeed.

She clung to him tightly as she lost herself in the moment, the room spinning around her. Then she was moving, felt herself being lifted into the air, the soft cushion of the mattress suddenly at her back, the sheets cool and soothing against the bare patches of her skin. As he settled over her, he broke the kiss, forehead pressed against hers, his breath heavy and erratic, as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. He raised himself up on his arms, and gazed down at her, and she could see the questions reflected in his eyes. The concern that maybe he'd taken things just a little too far.

In silent reassurance, her hands glided across the strong muscles of his forearms, and over the firm skin of his biceps, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch. From memory, she could see the artwork that had been inked on the inside of each arm, and she made a mental note to ask him about its meaning, along with all the other things about him that she wanted to know. Her hands massaged their way across his shoulders, joining at the back of his neck, before moving forward along his chest. Her fingers swept beneath his outer shirt, one of those multicolored oddities that would have looked horrible on anyone else but him, and slid it off of his shoulders, until it was straining at the seams against the solid frame of his back. He sat up on his knees, only long enough to shrug himself free of the binding material, then he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder to the floor, before gathering her in his arms again, pressing his mouth to hers. She accepted him eagerly, parting her lips to his exploring tongue, before returning the favor with her own. Only when the need for air became too great did they finally part, his attention shifting back to her throat, then upward toward her ear. He nibbled the lobe gently between his teeth and groaned as he was rewarded with a sharp thrust of her hips as she arched into him.

Even through his desire, he felt the doubt returning, winding it's way through the fogginess of his brain, and for one lucid moment, he wondered if he should stop, if perhaps it was wrong to expect so much so soon. The he heard her moan softly, felt her hands pulling him closer again and what little resolve he had left vanished in an instant. His hands moved lower, slipping beneath her shirt to grasp her waist, and she gasped when she felt the sensation of his heated touch along her skin.

There were too many clothes between them and she pawed at the material of his t-shirt, gathering it in her fists and tugging it toward his shoulders, instantly missing the heat of him when he pulled away to jerk it over his head and discard it in the growing pile on the floor. Her hands touched his now bare stomach, fingers stroking the tight muscles appreciatively. She trailed her fingers down his arms, tugging at his wrists to urge him closer, but instead he pulled her up to meet him, strong hands on her back, her own shirt quickly lost to the floor below. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against the center of his chest, her tongue lazily circling one flat nipple as he fumbled with her bra. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then his hands were in her hair, pulling her up, until she was in front of him, his mouth finding hers again. He gathered her in his arms, guiding her backwards, pressing her into the softness of the bed beneath them.

The friction of skin on skin was heavenly, almost torturous, as his heat consumed her. Her hands wandered over his broad shoulders and down his back, savoring the sensation. She'd imagined this moment so many times since the first time she'd seen him, wondered how it would feel to caress him this way, to feel the strong muscles of his back flex beneath her touch. And even through the fog, as his feverish mouth and nimble fingers drove her toward madness, she tried to focus on the task at hand, wanting to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

She inhaled sharply when she felt his fingers slip beneath the waistband of her jeans popping the button loose, flinching when he brushed a ticklish spot along her hip. The sound seemed to ground him again, one hand lingering on her abdomen, the other pressed into the pillow beside her head as he balanced himself over her, drinking her in. He seemed to hesitate, and she could see the subtle change in his expression as reality sunk in.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned. "There's no going back after this."

She smiled. In response, her hands slipped lower, unfastening the button of his pants, her fingertips clasping around the outline of his erection through the material. With a groan, he pulled her hand away, pinning it to the mattress as his free hand cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing when she felt his lips press against her forehead, then the tip of her nose, before reaching her lips. He lingered there momentarily, swallowing her moan of pleasure as he palmed a breast, his thumb slowly circling one erect nipple. She squirmed as the soft kisses continued down her chest, ending as his mouth enclosed around one stiff peak. She whimpered, arching into him, the hand not caught in his grasp finding its way to the back of his head, determined to hold him to the task and he willingly gave over control, letting her guide his movements.

"Toll, please..." she pleaded, squirming free long enough to attempt to tug off her jeans, failing miserable since most of her legs were still pinned under his weight.

He chuckled softly, the sound close to her ear and it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine in anticipation of what was yet to come. He slid off the bed, and she twisted toward him, reflexively kicking off her shoes and using her toes to slip the socks off her feet, before he began to peel the thick material down her legs, along with her panties. He bent over her, placing gentle kisses along her abdomen before she stopped him, breathing hard as she raised up and began to tug at the zipper of his pants. His hands covered hers, intent on finishing the task for her, but the feel of her mouth suddenly covering the length of him though the material stopped him in his tracks. The sensation of the hot, wet heat through the thin fabric threatened to bring him to his knees but he managed to remain upright, a low growl escaping from the back of his throat as he tugged the material off impatiently and slung it aside.

He settled over her again, their tongues tangling, hands groping, tension rising to an unbearable level. Then her hand was between them, her fingers around him, stroking the length of him, as she guided him into her. She buried her face into his neck, her nails sticking sharply into his biceps as he filled her completely, and he ducked his head, his lips finding hers in an urgent kiss. Her legs wound around his thick waist as he moved within her, their lips parting, his forehead pressed against hers, one hand on her hip, holding her to him. Her body rolled eagerly, matching his movements, a gasp driven from her with every thrust of his hips. Pace quickening, pleasure building, he pulled her closer, the heat of her around him driving him closer to the edge. He heard the tempting sound of her cries against his ear, felt the tightening of her legs and her body around him, then felt her shudder helplessly against him as she came apart in his arms, the sensation driving him over the edge toward his own release. When his breathing slowed and his mind cleared, he glanced at her warily, then nuzzled her neck, relieved at the contented sigh that escaped her lips. He met her gaze, her blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction, and he hoped that the smile that was now on her face would be the first of many more to come.

"You ok?" he asked, as he settled against her, pulling a blanket up and over her shoulder to compensate from the partial loss of warmth.

"Better than ok. I feel like I've died and gone to heaven." She gave an exhausted sigh. "You know, if I knew then what I know now, I would have turned you down a lot sooner."

"Now you tell me." He traced his fingers along her jaw, kissing her gently. "I'll do my best to make it up to you. So, you better get some rest. You're probably gonna need it."

Enfolded in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, they dozed together, her eyes flickering open when she felt him reach for the light and turn it off.

"Should I leave?" she asked sleepily, snuggling closer even as she asked, hoping she wouldn't have to leave the comfortable warmth of his bed.

"Do you really think I'd ask you to leave now?" She could clearly make out the teasing tone despite the obvious fatigue in his voice.

"I don't know," she murmured, smiling. "But I probably deserve it after, you know, earlier."

"That's true," he agreed, stifling a yawn. "Maybe I should. But I'll let it slide, just this once."

He rested his chin on the top of her head and gave her a playful squeeze.

"Besides," he added, "I want to make sure you're here in the morning. I've got a few people I want you to meet."

She murmured something unintelligible in response, and he trailed his fingers soothingly along her back, lulling her back to sleep. Beside her, in the darkness, as he listened to her steady breathing, he smiled.

Tomorrow would be an interesting day for sure, he thought, wondering how the other guys would react to seeing her by his side. He supposed he was looking forward to it a little more than he should.

But he intended to enjoy every second of it, for as long as he could. Because for at least once in his life, he would be the one to have the last laugh.

~ Complete ~


	2. Chapter 2

**I felt like people were missing the second chapter, so I reuploaded the file and combined everything into under chapter 1. Sorry for any confusion.**


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